Wake Up Call
by corneroffandom
Summary: It's always the simple days that go wrong so quickly. Ethan Carter the Third is aware of this, but it still surprises him every time it happens.


A/N: This story is a little bit terribly timed, considering things that have been happening recently. I normally don't do this for fics but considering the situations from the last ten days, I will offer a bit of warning that there's a shooting in the fic. Ok. Thank you for reading this note and onto the fic.

Ethan grimaces as the sun shines in his eyes, glaring down at the broken sunglasses in his hand that had slipped out of his grip only minutes earlier to be trodden on by some unobservant person who hadn't even bothered to apologize when the glass crunched under their shoe. "Cheap damn things," he grouses. Thankfully they're outside of a line of stores and restaurants, about to head home after a quick meal together and Ethan's eyes lock immediately on a high end shopfront just ahead. He peers down at Spud and points at it. "See that place?" When Spud nods, Ethan grips his shoulders and pushes him towards it. "Go buy me the best looking pair they've got. Make sure they're durable!"

As soon as Spud's out of sight, he paces a few feet down the sidewalk and tosses the broken frames into the nearest trash can, about to turn around and head back to the store when he almost bumps into someone. "Watch where you're going," he mumbles, walking around the man.

"You're Ethan Carter the 3rd, aren't you?" the voice, a little shaky and a lot annoying, asks, stopping him.

"Yes, but I don't do autographs so..." His words die away as he turns towards the man, just to find a gun aimed at him. If others walking by notice either of them, they don't react and he wonders if he's seeing things, but no- the gun is held discreetly, beneath newspapers and Ethan can only see it because the sun is glinting off of the barrel just so.

"I used to love TNA," the man says, a crazed look in his eye. "It was great, it had a real chance at being a proper alternative... but you Carters came in and _ruined it!_ " His hand is still shaking and Ethan can only imagine his finger twitching just enough to put too much pressure on the trigger, and... He closes his eyes and takes a breath, a maddening kind of smirk on his face. "I'll start with you," he says simply. "Then that dimwitted aunt of yours, and whoever else I can get my hands on..."

Ethan has his hands up in what he hopes is a conciliatory manner when he hears something behind him that makes his heart drop from where it's pounding viciously in his throat. The shop door a few feet to their left opens, which means...

"Sir! I have your-" Spud calls out from the left and time slows to a stop as Ethan watches the man instinctively turn, his jittery fingers dancing upon the trigger and almost immediately causing it to fire, Ethan struggling to keep track of everything going on as his ears ring from the sound of the shot.

This attracts attention, finally, as women scream and children cry, and the man is tackled down before he can turn the gun back on Ethan, passerby holding him in place and kicking the gun away until police can come. Ethan observes all of this with a confused look on his face, still trapped in that moment when the gun had gone off, before turning back to where Spud had been standing. The man is still standing there, a bag dangling from his now slack hands, and Ethan's mouth goes dry as he watches blood blossom down his shirt.

Spud blinks and lifts his free hand, touching the seeping wound before his knees start to give. "Sir?"

In a rush, time catches up with itself and Ethan lunges forward, grabbing Spud's slumping form and holding him close. "It's ok, it's ok. I'm here. I've got you," he whispers into Spud's hair. He guides him down to the ground and feels around, not sure what to think when he finds that the wound is by Spud's collarbone. It is pretty clear that the man had been aiming for Ethan's chest or stomach, which lines up well with where the shot had landed on the poor British man.

"Sir," Spud whispers through pale lips, staring up at Ethan. "I... I got your sunglasses, sir. Are they... ok?"

Ethan had forgotten about the bag in Spud's hand but he finds it now, crinkled up between them, and nods. "They're perfect, Spud. Thank you." He doesn't care about the glasses now, his own vanity keeping them from just leaving and avoiding this, but Spud looks mollified at his response so Ethan keeps his thoughts to himself even as he applies pressure to the wound, ignoring Spud's writhing groan. "Sorry, I'm sorry, it's what I have to do," he breathes. "Just stay with me, Spud."

"Why would I... go anywhere, sir?" Spud asks through gritted teeth, his nails digging into Ethan's arm. Tears of pain are dripping down his face and Ethan feels even worse, brushing them away and trying to ignore how ill he feels as he smears blood down Spud's face instead, pink rivulets staining his skin.

"That's right, you wouldn't," he says, patting Spud's face gently. When Spud begins to shiver, the fear on his face eating away at Ethan, he lifts him up and holds him closer, trying to keep him warm. "It's ok, you're gonna be ok." He can tell that the people around them have called for an ambulance and when he looks up, he finds a few police officers scattered around, a couple of them holding the gunman between them as they Mirandize him and head him towards a waiting cop car.

"M'cold, sir," he murmurs, pressing his face into Ethan's shoulder. "But it's summer... why..." He's sounding more and more disoriented and Ethan's heart aches to listen to him.

"Where's the ambulance?!" he calls out to the police officers scattered around and they immediately start to move, talking to dispatch through their radios.

"Two minutes out," the nearest officer tells him before kneeling down and reaching out for Spud. Ethan watches him grimly, loath to release his best friend but thinking perhaps the cop would know what to do. He checks the gunshot wound impassively before replacing Ethan's hand over it and applying more pressure. "I know you don't want to cause him pain, but putting more pressure on it'll slow the bleeding. Which is what's best while we wait," he explains over Spud's breathless whimpers of pain.

Ethan hates it, those two minutes feel like individual lifetimes, but finally he hears the sirens and watches as EMTs take Spud from him, prepare him for transport. Heated blankets, IVs, whatever they can do to slow the effects of shock on his system until they can get him to the hospital, are applied while they set him up in the vehicle. Ethan stands at the sidelines, watching as his body is slowly covered in more and more tubes, wires, their attempts at watching his vitals during the transport.

For this reason, he hears when Spud starts calling for him. "Sir, sir-" Voice wrecked by coughs and the fresh pain that this causes, he quiets for a few moments, just to open his deep blue eyes to find Ethan now sitting next to him, hands entangled together. "Sir."

"I'm here, Spud," he murmurs, hating himself for freezing outside of the ambulance and not thinking to ask if he could join the other man until hearing his pleads. "It's going to be ok."

"I know it will be," Spud responds with a small smile. "Thank you for staying with me, sir."

"No problem," Ethan whispers, unable to say anything more as Spud stares up at him. He rubs his fingers over Spud's knuckles and locks eyes with the EMT crew who had urged him onto the van when Spud was struggling, appreciation for their quick thinking in his dark eyes. Spud falls asleep somewhere along the way and Ethan holds his breath, watching him, his vitals on the machines, everything until they finally arrive at the hospital.

It's bustling and rushed movements then and Ethan is left behind in the hall outside of the emergency room that Spud had been pushed into, something crinkling obnoxiously. Only when he looks down does he realize that the sunglasses Spud had bought for him had somehow made it all the way here with him. He hangs his head and stares at them, observing how durable they are and probably one of the more expensive options, just like Spud knows he prefers. He sighs heavily and sits down, reaching for his phone. After he dials, it rings and rings until finally clicking. "Aunt D? I need you. _Spud_ needs you."

No matter what people might say about the woman, Dixie Carter is kind to most of her staff, as long as they work hard and uphold their end of the bargain. She may not understand every inch of running a wrestling business, but most of them feel a sort of loyalty to her anyway because she has that Southern charm and determination to see things through, no matter what. So he's not that surprised when she arrives barely twenty minutes later, sitting next to him and holding his hand as he tells her story, his eyes locked on the sunglasses held in his lap as he tells her what the man had said, what he had done. How the gun had gone off after Spud had left the store and attracted their attention. How pale he had been afterwards, barely able to stay awake until in the ambulance with Ethan by his side when he'd finally given in and dozed off. The fear of it all.

Dixie's hands are resolute around his own and he stares down at their shaking fingers, wondering if she's trembling or if he is, or if they both are. "It's gonna be ok, darlin'," she says softly. "He's strong, he'll get through this." She smiles weakly when he looks up at her, nodding slowly.

He's not sure how long they sit there until finally a doctor approaches them. Ethan stands but it's Dixie who handles most of it, listening to him explain Spud's condition, the surgery needed to repair what the bullet's done. Rehab that will probably have to follow to help him regain strength in his arm. Once he leaves, they sit back down, somewhat comforted by the doctor's confidence in Spud's chances of recovery. Ethan keeps replaying the man's comments over and over in his mind, running his fingers over the frame of the glasses again and again as the minutes tick agonizingly slowly past. At some point, police approach them to ask questions, take an impromptu statement since Ethan refuses to leave the hospital without word on Spud's condition.

Awhile after they leave, the doctor- whose name Ethan is still unaware of- finally returns, pulling his gloves off. These words register with Ethan as he looks them in the eye. "He made it through surgery well. We'll have him in recovery for a little while and when we're ready to put him in a permanent room, a nurse will come and guide you there once he's settled."

"Thank you," Dixie says softly, resting a hand on Ethan's arm as the doctor nods and bustles off, heading off to check on other patients or prepare for another surgery, Ethan's not sure. They sit once more and wait, staring at the clock, the droning TV, the people coming and going. Finally a nurse approaches and leads them down one hall and another until they're inside Spud's room, his eyes fluttering open and shut every few moments.

"He'll be in and out for awhile," the nurse explains with a soft smile. "But he's doing really well. He's a fighter, this one."

"Yes he is," Dixie agrees, resting a hand on Spud's head and brushing his hair back as Ethan reads his vitals once more, re-orienting himself to this reality of basing his breathing on Spud's heartbeats. Once they're alone, the nurse quietly shutting the door behind her, Dixie sits next to the bed and waits patiently, watching as Spud inches closer to consciousness, the medicine slowly fading from his system.

Ethan, however, doesn't have the patience, beginning to speak quietly to him. "I still have the sunglasses, Spud. They're great, you always know exactly what I want, huh?" Dixie looks a little confused but keeps her comments to herself as Ethan continues to intone to his best friend, talking about another restaurant- in a better part of town, with better security- that they'll have to try out as soon as Spud's out of the hospital and recovered enough to do so. Ethan chuckles wearily and sits on the side of the bed next to him, taking his hand and holding it against his chest.

Neither of them has moved when Spud stirs, his eyes open a slit. "Sir," he slurs, still feeling the affects of the drugs numbing his system from the post-surgery pain. Even so, it's the most beautiful sound Ethan and Dixie have heard in a long time.

"Hey, right here," Ethan tells him softly. "Aunt D's here too."

"Madam?" he whispers, trying to see around Ethan. When she stands up and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, his whole face lights up. "Madam..."

"Hi, darlin'," she murmurs, running her fingers through his soft blond hair. "How you feeling?" But his eyes are on Ethan, memories returning to him and the fear is obvious on his face. "It's ok, darlin', he's fine. And you're gonna be too, just fine. I promise ya."

"I believe you," he responds softly. He's not strong enough to hold any meaningful conversation so they merely sit with him and watch as he dozes back off, clearly in need of the rest to recover. Dixie leaves to get them coffee but Ethan stays, holding Spud's hand and considering just how small his fingers are in comparison.

Hours pass slowly and Ethan wonders why the nurses don't try to get him to leave, but he doesn't question it, knowing that they're probably going to pay famously for this private room anyway. The sun has just risen, its light streaming into the room and making his eyes hurt, when Spud moves again, making a soft groaning noise as his arm shifts. "Hey, take it easy," Ethan tells him, immediately wide awake. He rests a hand on Spud's uninjured shoulder and waits until their eyes lock. "You with me?"

"Yessir," he yawns. "You stayed here all night?"

"Of course I did," Ethan shrugs. "I'm going to ask the nurse when we can get you home. I hate these places."

"I do too," Spud admits, grimacing. "Sir, when you see her, can you ask about some medicine?" He grits his teeth and closing his eyes, fingers reaching up to press against his arm.

"Dammit, Spud," Ethan chides him. "You should've told me you were in pain." He gets up and heads right for the door, looking for a nurse. Thankfully one passes by and he calls to her until she notices. "My friend just woke up and he's in pain, can you...?"

She checks Spud's file, peeking in at the man, before nodding. "Yes," she says, finding a syringe and a medicine vial. Flicking it a few times, she injects it into Spud's IV and smiles down at him. "There, you should feel better soon." Patting his hand, she turns to the door before Ethan stops her.

"I was wondering if you had any idea when he might be released?"

She hesitates and glances back at Spud's file. "I'll notify his doctor that you have some questions, but it seemed by his file that they at least want to keep him for another day."

"Thank you," Ethan murmurs, sitting back on the bed and watching Spud as the medicine takes hold once more. When another nurse comes in with the breakfast menu, Spud's fast asleep but Ethan looks it over and marks a few things for him in case he's hungry when he wakes up. Even if he stays asleep, it'll give Ethan something to pick at without having to leave, since Dixie had to go to the offices to alert the staff what had happened and take over some of Spud's work to keep things running smoothly in his absence.

A couple of hours have passed when Ethan reaches into his pocket for his phone just for something to dig under his fingernail. He curses before pulling it out and realizing that it's a business card which contains the phone number of the police officer he'd talked to the day before in the waiting room. Checking on Spud once more, he gets up and quietly leaves the room, going outside to place his call. It rings a few times before a female voice answers. "Is Officer Flint available?"

"I can check, hold please."

Ethan frowns, listening to the elevator music that plays for what feels like an hour, before it clicks once more. "This is Officer Flint, what can I do for ya?"

He swallows and closes his eyes. "Hello, I gave a statement after the shooting outside of the shopping center yesterday. James Curtin was the victim?"

"Yeah, I remember you guys. How's he doing?"

"He made it out of surgery," Ethan says. "He's going to be ok. I just wanted to know what's going on with the shooter."

"He's in custody. We're currently processing him and collecting evidence from the crime scene. When Mr. Corbin is stronger, we'll come to get a statement from him as well. Perhaps later today."

Ethan knows very little of what happens after a crime, but it sounds about right for the first few steps after an attempted murder. He'd ordinarily demand more answers but he'd been away from Spud long enough so he simply thanks the man and hangs up, walking quickly back into the hospital. When he returns to Spud's room, his best friend is somewhat awake, picking at the remains of his cold eggs and soggy toast with a fork. His eyes light up as soon as he sees Ethan and the third generation Carter rushes over to him, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, I had a phone call to make." He pushes the tray closer and tries to find something appetizing to help Spud get down. "Maybe I should've woke you up when the food came..."

"It's fine," Spud murmurs. "I'm not that hungry."

Ethan frowns at him, ultimately deciding to leave the food as is. "Let me talk to your nurse, see if they have something to give us... jello or something. You need _something_ to eat, Spudsy." He runs his fingers through Spud's hair, like his aunt had done hours earlier, before going out to the nurse's desk. After receiving jello and a carton of milk, he returns to Spud's room and smiles at his best friend. "Let's try this." With Spud's one arm incapacitated, and his all around being uncoordinated from the drugs and pain, Ethan sits down next to him and feeds him as patiently as he can.

Spud giggles drowsily when the jello keeps slipping off of the spoon and returning into the plastic container with an ungraceful flop. His eyes immediately widen. "Sorry, sir, didn't mean to laugh at you-"

"Nah, it's fine," Ethan mumbles, his lips twitching upwards. "Nice to see you laugh, even if it is at my own expense." Finally he gets a spoonful past Spud's lips and they smile at each other. Once the jello and milk are gone, Spud dozes back off and Ethan settles in for a quiet, albeit watchful, afternoon. He'd seen the hospital security loitering around, it seems sufficient- especially with the criminal behind bars- but he prefers to see with his own eyes that Spud's safe.

After another night, where the nurses seem more determined to see Ethan leave and get some proper rest, finally bringing in a cot for him to lay on, Spud's doctor looks him over in the early morning light, checks his vitals and declares that he can go home after breakfast. The grins on both of their faces are blinding and Spud easily stays awake until the tray has come, Ethan helping him where he needs it with the pancakes and sausage that were the best seeming option this morning.

He's clearly stronger, which is a massive relief to Ethan, but as he struggles to put the tank top that one of the staff had brought over at Ethan's request on, Ethan has to step in again, unable to stand watching him. "Here," he murmurs, carefully easing his bad arm into the hole. "There ya go." He stops long enough to place the arm in the sling the hospital had provided post-surgery, and smiles down at Spud. "Good to go, huh?"

"Yessir." They wait for the release papers and, as soon as they're signed and returned to the nurses' desk, he's allowed to go. The drive back to the house seems to take forever, especially when Spud's strength wans within five minutes. Ethan checks on him at every light, wincing at every delay until finally they pull up at the front door and he gets out, walking around the car and undoing Spud's seatbelt, allowing him to sleep through the whole process of getting him out and carrying him up to the door to where Jeeves, their butler, is waiting.

"Thanks, Jeeves," Ethan mumbles as he holds the door open for them, his anxious dark eyes resting on Spud's face. "He's going to be ok. Just asleep right now." He adjusts his hold on Spud and turns to stare at Jeeves. "Is his room prepared?"

"Yes, sir," Jeeves says. He always sounds professional when he says it, whereas Spud is always just a little too affectionate to be merely another member of the staff. At this random observation, Ethan's hold on the shorter man tightens just a little before he focuses on what the butler is saying. "I ensured the cleaning lady handled everything to your expectations, and the bed was remade with fresh sheets."

"Thank you." Aware that Spud deserves to enjoy those sheets as quickly as possible, Ethan turns and walks directly to the wing of the house they live in. Spud's room just past his own, he settles him down on the bed and watches as Spud makes a soft little noise, nuzzling into his pillows. "Rest well, Spud," he murmurs, pulling the sheets up over him and making sure he's fully covered before turning to leave the room. Abruptly weighed down by his own exhaustion, he stumbles down the hall into his bedroom and barely bothers to kick his shoes off before dropping onto his bed and falling asleep immediately.

When he wakes up, it's long past suppertime and he grimaces. "Well damn," he breathes, staring at the clock before sitting up. "Spud." Eyes widening with realization, he returns to the other bedroom and blinks upon finding his best friend sitting up in bed, a variety of bowls and dishes settled around him, almost surrounding him entirely.

"Sir, help," he says, half laughing, half desperate. "The cook apparently was so glad I was home in one piece, that she made all of this food and I can't eat it all, nor can I move without knocking something over..."

Ethan facepalms before moving over to help, settling most of the dishes on the bedside table and keeping a few on the bed. "Well, let's see what we can do before all of the food in the house goes to waste here." Spud laughs and nods as the two of them work their way through lasagna and garlic bread, beef tips and baked potatoes, and green bean casserole with little pieces of ham in it. "Oh brother," Ethan mumbles, collapsing face first next to Spud after they've ate the majority of the food. "She's great at her job, no kidding, but cook really outdoes herself sometimes... I don't think I'm going to be moving for a few days."

Spud chuckles softly and reaches over with his good arm, lightly rubbing Ethan's back. "I don't think I will be either, sir."

"At least you have an excuse," Ethan sighs. "How is your pain? Do you need anything?" He curses himself for not thinking of asking sooner but Spud shakes his head slowly left to right and he feels a little better. "Alright." He rolls over carefully and they lay quietly for awhile. "I don't think I said it, since so much was going on, but... I'm glad you're going to be ok, Spud." The road is going to be slow, physical therapy is scheduled to get Spud's arm back to full strength as soon as he's ready, but with time, he has no doubt Spud will be back in that TNA ring, doing what he's always done.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt by that mad man, sir," he says softly, finding Ethan's hand and giving it a squeeze.

Ethan smiles sadly and squeezes back. _That, right there. Keeping us safe no matter what it costs him._ He finds a remote and turns on the TV he'd had the staff bring into the bedroom for Spud's recovery, the two of them finding some ridiculous movie that Spud immediately becomes enthralled by.

After a late night of watching one random movie after another, they fall asleep side by side with the TV lightly droning on. Ethan wakes up close to his normal time- noon-thirty- to find Spud pressed close to his side and he smiles, carefully disentangling himself before muting the TV and padding into the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth and brush his hair to prepare for the day ahead. Even though he's not preparing to leave the house, he'd rather look somewhat decent.

When he returns to the main room, Spud has awoke and they stare at each other. "Good morning, sir," he says. Running his fingers through his hair, he yawns quietly and making a soft humming noise. "Sir, would you mind...?"

"What, Spud?" Ethan asks when Spud stops hesitantly.

"I, um, don't want to be holed up in here all day but I'm not sure if I can make it all the way through the house yet... could you perhaps walk with me to the living room, just to see...?"

Ethan sighs and rolls his eyes, walking over to the bed. "Oh, please, Spud," he mumbles, scooping the young man up and holding him close like he has a few times when he was injured. "I've told you before, this is easier for both of us."

"I know," he says faintly, resting his head against Ethan's shoulder. "But..."

"No buts," Ethan mumbles. "You're not a burden. If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't. Now c'mon, where do you want to sit in the living room?"

Spud hesitates for a moment. "The couch by the big bay windows?" Warm, and he could see outside to the pool easily. Ethan nods in approval and walks down the hall to there, easing Spud onto the cushions. "Thank you sir," he says, leaning back against the throw pillows.

"You're welcome." Ethan smiles down at him, patting his leg. "Now if you're ok here by yourself for awhile, I'm gonna head outside and get a bit of a work out in by the pool." He would ordinarily go to the gym and stay there until the few clubs in the area that he could tolerate open, but he's not quite ready to have Spud out of his sight for too long, so this is the best option he can think of.

"Of course, sir," Spud says with a small smile. "I'm just going to sit here and warm up a bit." He had been chilled since the shooting, the hospital being a good ten degrees cooler than he likes not helping in the slightest.

"If you want to come out and sit by the pool for awhile, just let me know," Ethan says before taking his leave.

Spud nods but makes no move to do so, sinking back into the pillows and sighing as he fights another yawn. "Will I ever stop feeling so weak?" he mumbles, closing his eyes.

Ethan trains with a weight set that he keeps at the house for days like today, knowing that it's the bare minimum of what he would normally do, but it's enough to keep him from completely losing his muscle tone. He peeks into the house after awhile, not surprised to find Spud asleep already. He smiles sadly and continues lifting, mixing in push ups and crunches as he feels the need. When he gets too sweaty, he dives into the pool and swims a few laps, timing himself with a waterproof fitness tracker that he'd bought just for this purpose.

Upon surfacing, he looks back towards the house, breathing a little easier upon finding Spud still sleeping comfortably on the couch. He lazily swims around to cool down, eyes half-lidded, until he notices movement in the house. Stilling, he swims to the edge and watches with a dark look on his face until he recognizes the person approaching the couch. His aunt approaches Spud and rests a hand on his face, a worried slant to her lips. Ethan pulls himself out of the pool, thinking something's wrong, when he hears it- Spud's fretful whimpers audible through the glass as he struggles against a nightmare that are growing louder with each passing second. He's just made it to the doors when Dixie sits next to Spud and hugs him, patting his back and whispering to him. Hesitating, he pushes the doors open slightly and listens.

"It's ok, darlin', you're ok, shhh," she whispers, rocking him back and forth gently. Spud wakes up with a strangled gasp but she holds him close, keeping him from flailing out and hurting himself. "I've gotcha, you're ok."

"Ma-madam?" he breathes.

"That's right, darlin'. It was just a nightmare," she soothes him.

"No it wasn't," he sobs out after a moment. "It was... it was a flash of memory from that night." Tears drip down his face onto the back of her blouse and she pauses, rubbing his back gently. "I- I walked out of the store, and this man had the gun... aimed at... at Ethan's chest, and if I hadn't called out for him without realizing, he would've shot, and sir... sir would've..."

"No, no," she hushes him. "Don't think like that. Thanks to you, Ethan is just fine. And you're gonna be ok too. You know how horrible I felt that day, but thankful too, when I heard what happened? Hiring you was the best decision I ever made, darlin'." She kisses his cheeks, traces her fingers down his face and smiles at him. "You're so steadfast and loyal, and maybe one of the hardest workers I've ever seen. I'm so glad you're gonna be alright, my li'l Spudsy." He quietly leans into her, breathing in her scent as she rocks him back and forth for a few more minutes.

Ethan sits outside, arms crossed over his knees, listening to all of this with a sad smile on his face. Dixie might get painted with a bad brush because of her lack of understanding in some things, and her flighty moods, but moments like these remind him why he loves her. He wonders how the shooter would feel, if his viewpoints on the woman would change at all, if he'd heard what Ethan just did. He doubts it, but in a perfect world... Shaking his head, Ethan sighs and stands up, venturing inside.

Dixie spots him and smiles before gently disentangling herself from Spud. Kissing his forehead, she smooths down his mussed hair before getting up and hugging Ethan. After she leaves to give the two men some time to themselves, Ethan sighs and sits down next to Spud, resting a hand lazily on his leg. "You ok?"

"Yessir, just a flashback. I'll be fine." Despite the fear in his eyes, and the tear stains down his cheeks, Spud tries to look brave. Calm. Like nothing's bothering him.

Ethan shakes his head and leans closer, brushing the wetness off of Spud's cheeks. "Have you been having other flashbacks like this, huh?" Spud shakes his head, their eyes locked, and Ethan lifts an eyebrow while smirking unhappily. "You'd come to me if you did, right?"

"Yessir, of course," he stammers.

"Good. You'd better." Ethan sighs and gently pulls Spud onto his lap, making sure not to put pressure on his bad arm, before laying back against the couch. "This _is_ a lot more comfortable than I would've figured," he muses.

"Yes, it is, sir," Spud agrees quietly. They lay quietly for a few minutes before Spud rests his head against Ethan's chest, in the general area where he thinks the shot would've plowed through if he had come out even a minute later. He listens to Ethan's heart beat with a relieved twist to his lips, sniffing softly.

"I'm fine, Spud. Thanks to you." Ethan wraps an arm around him and kisses the top of his head. "And that bastard is behind bars, and Aunt D and I will find the most ruthless lawyers to ensure he stays there. We're both going to be just fine. I promise."

Spud nods, easily believing him as always, but makes no rush to move, Ethan's strong heartbeat lulling him into a warm kind of comfort he hadn't felt since that day outside of the sunglass shop. "Thank you, sir."

"Pfft, no, I should be the one thanking you," Ethan murmurs. "How about we just call it even, hm?"

"Yes, sir," he agrees softly. He doubts either of them truly sees it that way, but it's one way to stop the appreciation circle, which he knows makes Ethan uncomfortable on a good day, so he accepts it with a small smile, settling in with a contented sigh.


End file.
